BETWIXT BIRTH-DEATH
The force of words Either cease or lay low; They move forward Like an everlasting flow. Poetry, most of the times Even conquer the senses; An erratic mind it can tame And jot words of fragrance. Yes, softer like the wax Pleasant like the breeze; Thoughts prefer to relax Under the poetic craze. Soothing the restive mind With tempting themes; Weaving words of profound Poetry can flow like a stream. In “between birth and death” On the bumpy journey of life; Let poetry be a home and hearth For a contented and relaxed life. 31 |